


With this Heart

by tea_petty



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vikings, Angst, F/M, Masturbation, Ritual Sex, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 08:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30120117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_petty/pseuds/tea_petty
Summary: a sexy sequel to 'with these hands'
Relationships: Denmark (Hetalia)/Reader
Kudos: 5





	With this Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my tumblr; tea-pettiest

Since that first night with Mathias, she had been with almost all the men in the village.

This was to be expected; what came as a surprise was that she still hadn’t technically had Mathias. Not in the way she’d had the other men, anyway.

Moreover, during her time with Mathias and his men, she had continued to be jerked around, fate yanking her back and forth like a mutt with a piece of meat. Sometimes, she thought her neck ached from the whiplash such sudden changes in a short amount of time gave her; then again, maybe it was the chores around camp.

Where Mathias lived, they treated her kindly with his word to vouch on behalf of the respect he felt she’d deserved. She’d quickly outgrown her initial rank as ‘slave,’ even if she was not from their village.

With Mathias’ blessing and guidance, she’d assimilated into his village’s way of life as easily as anyone could in her place. 

There was anger and resentment, of course. She was gifted this simple life as if it were worth all the valuables they’d stolen from the stiff, cold fingers of the people she’d grown up alongside. There was also a supreme appreciation that her circumstances had not necessarily been as cruel as they could’ve been.

With her status improved, Mathias having turned her to gold after he’d touched her, she was allowed the opportunity to marry and cement her place in the village. The men she’d had, had all been willing – prospective husbands, who she was testing for… _physical_ compatibility.

None of them knew that so long as the night with Mathias in his tent still remained imprinted in her mind, that none of them could ever hope to have a chance. 

At night, she’d lay awake, hides twisted around her body, remembering how soft they’d felt that first night, her hands probing her body, all the more experienced but no less in need of the man’s careful guidance to unlock the ecstasy she so desired. When she closed her eyes, she would imagine the shadows against the side of the tent and try to remember how his gaze had felt burning into her skin.

She wished she could have another chance, to show him how much she’d learned, both of her body and of tending to others. To show him that he wouldn’t have to guide her to her pleasure; that perhaps, there were new and exciting places _she_ could take _him_.

Alas, out of her many prospective husbands, Mathias was not among them, a fact that stung worse than the biting cold in this northern region.

Running deeper than the chill that seemed to permeate into her very marrow, like she might freeze straight through one day, was the ache to tend to other needs of his. These needs existed not at the flesh but tucked safely inside it. Such needs that either ended in disaster or in scenes far too sweet for the frayed reality she knew. 

Sometimes, she thought she was beginning to grow accustomed to this cold absence, the chill from how abruptly the fire from their first night together had been extinguished. Then, she’d run into him at a feast or gathering, where his eyes seemed to slide right over her in the crowd. If he absolutely had to acknowledge her, he might give the most barely imperceptible nod before moving on. How strange such an unfeeling encounter was when she could remember the safety of the tent and that bubbled warmth, the swells of their breath, and the reverence of his fingers at her skin.

By the time she’d worked up the courage to confront him on the matter, he’d left – gone again to foreign shores to find what was ripe for the taking.

Seven months had passed since his departure, and still, her stomach soured when she thought of him in his tent, a softer silhouette shifting intimately beside him.

In any case, if it was the winter she feared, then the company she kept these days – even if they weren’t Mathias – could at least keep her warm enough, certainly being better than total and complete solitude.

Tonight, in particular, she was able to stave off the cold-empty. It was another feast, and so how could she possibly feel alone in a hall full of people, talking, laughing, drinking, dancing. Not to mention the warm, sturdy presence beneath her, his arms keeping her firmly seated in his lap, his lips floating compliments and innuendo to her ears, and his cup, never empty of drink, for them to share.

She leaned back in Lukas’ arms, reveling in the firmness of his chest behind her. She felt something graze her cheek, and when she looked, she found herself nose to nose with the man holding her.

“Hello there.”

She smiled, unable to keep from doing so at this proximity, which seemed to automatically render her a little bashful.

“Hi.”

“Comfortable?”

One of her arms came loosely around his neck; she was bracing herself against him, her other hand coming up to rest at his chest.

“How could I not be? I have the best seat in the house.”

Lukas’ eyes studied her face before he leaned in, slowly, giving her room to react, to deny him if she so chose.

That was something she appreciated about him; he gave her a choice. It reminded her of another man she was fond of in this camp and the choice he’d given her as well.

At this proximity, she let her eyes fall shut; his features started to blur together, fair skin warmed by firelight. 

She could feel his breath fan across her face, and it was like he was breathing warmth back into her. She curled against him, allowing him to take this one little thing for now.

When the kiss never came, she opened her eyes, and Lukas shifted beneath her.

His focus was no longer on her but on something past her. She looked where he did and found Mathias, standing before them, his eyes, a darker blue than Lukas’, shifting between the two, like he was trying to widen the sliver of space between their bodies.

“Mathias,” Lukas sounded surprised. “Welcome back. You look well, brother.”

“Mm. Our voyage was fruitful.” At the feel of his eyes shifting to her, she looked down at her lap. “It seems like though you didn’t go anywhere, and yet you were able to fill your hands as well.”

She reached for the horn, filled with a dark, strong mead, and sipped it, welcoming the heat as it dropped through her body. 

She hoped it would drown out the reminiscent stirrings Mathias’ return brought on.

Lukas gave her a little squeeze.

“I suppose I have you to thank for that as well; you brought her back on your last voyage, did you not?”

“Aye, I did. You’re that fond of her?”

She looked up and caught Mathias’ eye. Her face warmed, and suddenly her throat closed up, and she was coughing, sputtering, sending dark, shining droplets of the drink out. Lukas brought a hand heartily against her back, and she skirted Mathias’ gaze again.

“Ah, I am. Clumsy as this one is,” Lukas remarked, his fingers trailing heat at her back. She understood the remark to be as teasing as it was affectionate.

“Yes,” Mathias said, one eyebrow cocking, his lips twitching. “That’s right, clumsy.”

Her face burned more fervently. 

“In any case, I wanted to see you—” the heat never faltered at her skin. Gods, there was no way to get up and flee without arousing everyone’s attention. 

How terrible when she only sought one man’s. “—and now, I’ll bid you goodnight.”

Good night. Was it? Why not a surprising night? An appalling night? A night she’d planned on spending happily in Lukas’ arms – which she continued anyhow – although, she’d never planned on Mathias being there with them, if not in front of them, returning, then in her head and worse yet, other places in her body that seemed not immune, despite the very handsome lap she was sitting in.

The feast went on for several more hours, although as far as she was concerned and where her attention was, her evening had ended as soon as Mathias had shown up.

-

That night, Lukas had lingered, kisses falling like snow, catching at her cheeks, lips, eyes, throat, and hair. For a moment, she almost let her resolve crumble, to invite him into her lodge. 

This was a most pressing matter, though.

If she’d been asked just hours before, she might’ve been sure about choosing Lukas as her husband, but then Mathias showed up, and now her heart felt all…stuck. Earlier that day, she’d been still waters, at ease, with nowhere to be except there, nothing to bother with, except _being_ there.

Now, her mind was reeling, and her heart was pounding, and her skin was _burning_. There was a wet ache between her legs that she’d been tamping down since the moment she saw _that_ man again.

She needed clarity. She needed _guidance_. 

She shut the door of her lodge tightly behind her. As she crossed the distance from her door to her bed, her clothing dropped off in a careless little trail, as if she were leading strange, feral bedfellows straight to her.

Her jewelry came off first, glinting slightly from the shafts of moonlight filtering in through the thatch roof like she was leaving a trail of stars behind her. Then were the various layers of her dress, pooling at her feet in a rich puddle. As the last of her garments came off, she could feel her nipples tighten and ache from the cold. 

Beneath her skin, though, she was burning, alive with a want, with a goal, with a knowledge of which way she was headed.

The clustering of candles by her bed were artfully arranged next to the little stones she’d taken to setting there, carved and crossed with designs she wouldn’t have deciphered or understood without the guidance of the village’s _seið-kona_.

Protection. Clarity. Wisdom. 

She’d need all of those things tonight.

Nestled on a little table, she kept by her bed, between a few candles, was a different stone, this one void of carvings and notches. 

It was longer than the other stones too and smooth as if its years of service had only further tempered it for its job.

She sprawled out on top of the hides layered on her bed, naked, the stone object in hand. She had all the components here to rid herself of the uncertainty poisoning her heart – all she was missing was the desire, the _will_ , to purge it.

She knew how to draw that out of her, though.

She parted her legs, staring up, where the thatched roof looked like shadowy cracks in the tapestry of sky spread above. She nudged the stone between her legs and idly wondered what would spill out if one cracked the sky – just like an egg. A big, milky cluster of stars? The yolk? What hatched from the sky if they let it grow?

As the surface pushed against the wet seam of her cunt, she stiffened from the jolt of cold. Spreading some of her wetness against the end, she rubbed it gently against her folds, gradually burrowing it closer against her. She could _hear_ her ministrations. When the end of the object brushed against her hole, she felt her ass clench; the tightness of her body would only make it more difficult for her to push the object in.

 _Relax_ , she willed to herself— _deep breaths_. 

The hides were soft at her back, and as she lay there, panting, driving the object into her, she thought back to that night in Mathias’ tent. She thought of his fingers inside of her, warm and thick, alive with his energy and his desire for her. 

She felt a twitch between her legs, and the object slipped in an inch or so.

She thought of his skin, rough, the planes hard, and tendons sharp like he was chiseled from stone. Her eyes fluttered shut, and the object slipped deeper into her. 

When she clenched around it, she recognized it for what it was; a sorry replacement for Mathias. 

She would find her release anyway, though, and then she’d know she didn’t need him. When she went to bed with Lukas, it would be _good_ , good all of its own accord, unhampered by any lingering thoughts of his longtime friend.

She started to move the object, pumping it in and out of her. It lacked the warmth, the liveliness, and throb of a person. Still, when it parted her inner walls, she couldn’t ignore the swell of friction or its delectable aftershocks as they rippled through her body. 

The wet sounds of the object penetrating her grew louder, and she felt her toes twitch.

She imagined his fingers inside of her, his voice, rough like the graveled seashore, against her ears.

Coaxing her, encouraging her, wanting her to unfold for him. She thought of the hardness she’d found in his trousers afterward. God, why hadn’t she lain with him that night? How could she have come off his fingers alone?

She moved the object faster, feeling her cunt ripple powerfully around it, nearly breaking her hasty rhythm.

She thrust the object in and out of it. Just as fatigue was starting to leaden her fingers and weigh down the motion, her body drew into itself, pulling taut, her ass clenching again as her release possessed her.

This, good as it felt, was not what she was looking for.

As she free-fell and let the tingling warmth disperse through her body, she lay there, semi-delirious, on the brink of consciousness, and _felt_ for the moment, a fundamental change transpire.

It was like holding her breath and listening hard – it was the thin puncture of her euphoric bubble, light and delicate like butterflys’ wings.

‘Clumsy’ as she was, though, and inexperienced at this, she knew it when it happened.

She jackknifed to a sitting position, her arms burning in protest as she propped herself up. Her gaze cut through the room to the front door, where her discarded jewelry still christened the threshold. 

There was a shadow she could make out through the wood sides, outside her door; someone was there. 

She knew who it was without even seeing his face, and while technically, this had been the exact opposite of what she wanted, her stomach flipped.

She yanked one of the hides up to cover herself – not out of any genuine desire to, but because that was where they’d left off. Her shy, hardly a virgin, and him _aching_ for her.

“I know you’re there,” she said, her voice soft but shattering the silence as if she’d screamed. 

The silhouette outside her lodge didn’t budge. 

Didn’t breathe. Didn’t make a sound.

“Enter.”

There was stillness for a few more moments, and then the door opened, a slat of darkness pooling at the warm wood of her floor. 

Mathias stepped in, ducking his head at first, so he didn’t knock his head against the low hanging beam and then keeping it ducked out of modesty, averting his eyes.

Her stomach flipped, even though her orgasm had stagnated in her. She hadn’t thought he’d remembered the beam. His shyness brought her back in time, too – to that first night, where despite having her spread in a place where no one would bother them, he didn’t move an inch without her permission.

Tonight would be different. 

She didn’t care if the attempt to purge him from her system was ruined by his sudden appearance here. She didn’t care if she had sucked out the poison only to jump into a pit of vipers just after. She would not be shy tonight.

The solemn acceptance of all of these things made her feel powerful. Strong.

“Look at me.”

The hides dripped from her form, rendered lustrous in her veil of moonlight. 

“Look at me,” she insisted when again, Mathias hesitated. “Why are you shy? You were watching me from the beginning, weren’t you?”

Mathias didn’t answer. She wanted to shake him. Still, she remained on her bed, and slowly, his gaze lifted as he stood before her. 

It floated, falling up, sweeping over the floor, up along the side of the bed, no doubt catching the little object that was still gleamed faintly with her slick, nestled amongst the furs. 

From there, his eyes swept up her body, and she had to resist a violent shiver.

His eyes lingered at her breasts before climbing upwards to her face. When his eyes found hers, her heart jolted in her chest; she was startled by the sadness that aged his fine-boned features.

“I’m surprised you came here.” Actually, she was surprised to see him back at all. 

She had reconciled the day he’d left on his voyage as the last time she’d see him, and that detail alone had let her move on. “Why?”

Mathias cleared his throat, and when he spoke, she realized how different he seemed from that first night. She hadn’t realized it back then, but he had been soft. Almost boyish in how he relented. Here he appeared grizzled. 

Aged. 

Like the four winds had tugged and eroded deep lines into his skin, like the blizzards, streaked his already fair-hair with icy mementos of the craggy lands he’d gone to.

“There’s something I want to speak to you about.”

His voice sounded grave, and the shock of seeing him again tonight, mixed with the searing want, revolted against any sad, solemn sentiment he could have to sour their reunion.

“And you want me to listen?”

Her voice was biting. Mathias’ brow raised, surprised, but he said nothing.

“I’m here, looking to marry soon. I figured you dead, or at least dead to me, which might as well have been the same thing, and now you come here, looking as if someone truly _has_ died, and you want to talk to _me?_ No.”

Her voice softened, deadly and quiet like the soft hiss of a viper.

“I’ll take no more of your grave tidings. You are free to give me one thing, free to see me for one reason and one reason alone.” She leaned back against the hides and pillows, a veiled offering.

It was up to him now. She would not beg for him.

Mathias watched her, quiet. This new silent version of him scared her, and for a moment, she feared she’d overplayed her hand and that he was going to leave. 

He lowered himself carefully, perching at the edge of her bed.

His body was stiff. At first, he would not look at her.

She sat upright and shifted her weight so that she was on her knees. Mathias watched as the furs slipped from her form, and she crawled towards him, hair curling around her shoulders, hanging around her breasts. Again, his eyes lingered there, dropping from her face to her curves, then back up.

She paused when she was inches away. They still technically weren’t touching.

She moved onto his lap, carefully, slowly, looking for any sign of him leaning away or getting up to move. His hands closed around her easily, one finding the small of her back, the other looping over her legs, fingers stroking softly at her thighs. His eyes dropped over her again, as if trying to confirm that she was, in fact, real, naked, and on his lap, all at once.

One of her hands found his jaw, the hair of his beard tickling her palm there. She angled his face towards hers, finally feeling like they were on the same plane, occupying the same space.

Her other hand curled lightly at his chest. 

She leaned in real quick, and both of their eyes fell shut. She paused when she felt Mathias’ breath fan across her lips, his parting as if he was expecting her kiss right then. She held him steadily, not letting him close the last bit of distance.

“Did you think of me?” she murmured.

His face twitched, his brow furrowed like he was in pain. 

“Every day,” he whispered.

“Even when you were bringing other girls into your tent?”

He didn’t answer. Her eyes flicked from his eyes to his lips, then back up again.

His chest rose and fell under her palm. 

After a few moments, her need for an answer evaporated, and then she leaned in finally to kiss him. They met and pulled away for a split second before one of his hands came to tangle in her hair and pull her back to him again. 

Her breasts crushed gently between them as they kissed, his lips parting, gleaning the hunger he’d been keeping stringently tamped down.

He didn’t taste of mead like she was sure she did. Based on how his tongue slipped hastily into her mouth, though, tracing the contours inside, he didn’t seem to mind. His breathing grew rough, and she swallowed the sound as her own, excitedly.

She leaned into him, sitting upright so that she straddled his legs. She could feel a hardness where she sat, more prominent than the otherwise firm planes of his body. Her hands moved up to thread in his shaggy hair, and she gave him a sharp tug as if to warn him about leaving again.

Mathias did break the kiss, but as their bodies bowed, he did not leave. He kept his forehead pressed to hers, keeping them tethered as he tilted his head to free his mouth.

“You’re already…you and Lukas.”

Out of all her tried husbands, Lukas had been the one that stuck. She found herself thinking about him when he was away and had felt safe and precious in his arms as she’d always wanted to feel. She had no doubt that their marital bed would’ve been a happy and fulfilling one.

Then Mathias had come back, and now her head was swimming in all the fantasies she’d been steeping in up until a few weeks prior.

“Lukas?”

She sounded lost. Dazed.

His lips brushed against hers, his fingers trailing along her jaw. God, she couldn’t believe he was here.

“He’s my friend.”

“I…know.”

The words hung there for a while. Neither of them knew what to do with these sad, misfitted parts, especially not when they were still riding the high of how triumphantly they fit together.

“Were you going to marry him?”

She leaned in to kiss him again, missing the contact. Mathias held her at bay, watching her, his eyes sad.

“Yes.”

“And now?”

Her brow folded, and her fingers reached up to stroke at his face. Why couldn’t they have talked like this long ago, before he’d left on that trip? 

“Now, you’re back.”

Her voice sounded thick.

He held her hand to his face. She drank in the scratchy, worn heat of his skin.

“I can’t do that to him.”

“Whatever you can or cannot do, my feelings won’t change – and they’re not something I can carry into a marriage with him either.”

“I can’t do it. I can’t marry you,” Mathias said softly.

She hadn’t expected him to go along with her so easily, of course, but still, how quickly and fervently he latched onto this stung like he’d struck her.

“That’s it then? I’m no one but someone who warmed your tent once? Some maiden you took as a trophy and—”

“Stop that,” his eyes seemed to flash in the low light. 

“No, _you_. I must marry if I am to survive here. You’ve spoken well and—” she swallowed, her voice getting unsteady. 

“—and generously on my behalf, and for that, I thank you. My status is no longer that of a slave’s and more of that as any other woman in camp. If I am to keep that though, I must marry. So tell me then, do you really not care who’s to have me?”

“Lukas can have you. He’s a good man.” Mathias’ voice was frayed.

“Am I really to understand that you don’t _care_? That you don’t care about _me_?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then because – what? I’m only here because of you? Because of what you and your men did? So now, you bring me here, you bring me up from the depths of a life of slavery, and I’m allowed to marry someone wealthy, someone influential, who can look after me and give me a good life? You don’t care who has me so long as you can keep your conscience clear?”

Her voice ended, and it was like the world had gone silent in the presence of such shameless truth. Not even crickets could be heard outside, nor the rustling of grass or the water, or the voices of those still drunk and out, winding down from the night’s festivities.

“It never will be,” she broke the very quiet she made, like stacking tiles and knocking them down. “You can’t undo what you did, and I’m no longer the trembling virgin in your tent.”

Mathias blanched, looking almost like a ghost. 

He went quiet. She studied his face for a moment and then leaned in to kiss him again. 

This time, he kissed her back fervently, his hands taking her face tenderly as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. An already condemned man had no need to worry about how much he took.

The fervor with which he kissed her had her arousal working back up to a ferocious pounding in her in no time. She let her hands rest at his chest, shifting as if she were trying to pounce on his heartbeat through his clothes. 

When her hands skimmed the slip of skin the neck of his shirt yielded, the heat of him seemed to light a fire under her. 

She kissed him, letting his lips mold hers to his in sweet surrender. Meanwhile, her hands moved frantically, tugging at the fabric of his shirt, not exactly knowing how but wanting it _off_. 

Her hand felt the plane of muscle beneath the material, and soon she was touching her way down and marveling at the little gasping breaths he puffed into her mouth in response.

Her hand fell across his lap, between them, and upon feeling the hardness straining against his trousers, she palmed it, giving it a jaunty squeeze. He groaned, and she swallowed the noise eagerly down.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His hands slipped down from her face and cupped her breasts. Heavy and sensitive, his touch was a godsend. She leaned into it, feeling herself clench as his thumbs stroked over her nipples, the soft buds hardening as he rolled, tweaked, and pinched them.

She could’ve sobbed; it felt so good to be touched by him again.

She rolled her hips against the bulge of his trousers, and one hand dropped to her hip, guiding her in her rut, holding her to him, dragging her closer against him.

God, he was touching her like he _wanted_ her. 

The pads of his fingers were reverent, tracing her skin like she was of precious, delicate materials. She lay against him, a jewel beset in a crown. 

“Mm, you’re braver this time,” he murmured as she moved against him.

“I told you – I’m not the same woman you had in your tent that night.” 

She planted her palm firmly against him and pushed him down. Mathias, not expecting the sudden show of force, fell back onto her bed. She adjusted herself so that she sat upright, straddling him. The firm heat of him beneath her was intoxicating, holding her up on top of him like a magnet. She rolled her hips deeply against his, and they both moaned at the sensation. 

She leaned over him, her breasts crushing gently against his chest as she did so. She tilted her face up as if she were going to kiss him, but instead of doing that, she went to the thick column of his throat and nibbled gently at a tendon leaping out as he strained to watch her.

At once, Mathias stiffened. One of his large hands, which had smoothed up along the expanse of her back, caught in her hair. She could feel his fingers tense against her skull, tugging at the locks of her hair as he felt her teeth scrape against the sensitive skin.

“ _Ah_ —you’re—” 

A wicked smile spread at her lips, and then she was peppering vicious little kisses along his throat; teeth, lips, and tongue.

She sealed her lips at a spot, sucking gently, wanting to leave her mark on this man. 

“I’m what?” she breathed against his skin, relishing the way his body seemed to skip, jolt, and shudder beneath her.

She ran her hands down his chest, nails raking through his clothes. Again, she felt that powerful torso ripple beneath her. She lolled her gaze up to find his eyes and saw he looked anything but though; Mathias seemed soft. Almost fragile. 

“Now, you seem so sure as you handle me.”

“I am sure.”

Did he still not understand?

She sat up, her hands moving to the fastenings of his shirt, desperate to get it off.

As the fabric parted, Mathias tried to lift himself where appropriate so she could wrench his clothes off. Her movements, although confident in their aggressiveness, were still a little clumsy. Unbeknownst to her, though, he didn’t mind.

If anything, he drank in these little reminders of her inexperience. A part of him still ached to see her trembling and meek beneath him, but tonight was not about what he wanted, and as far as her wants were concerned, he trusted her.

Again, she ran her hands down his torso, and this time, her nails stung heat across it. Mathias groaned when her nail caught his nipple.

“ _Fuck_.”

She felt herself clench at the sound.

She knew he could easily knock her off of him and onto her back in two seconds if he wanted to. Under her, this formidable man, whose hands were well trained in breaking and destroying, could snap in her half. Still, on top of him, she felt invincible. She liked the feeling of him quivering beneath her, like the string on a lyre.

She wanted to keep him here in her modest little room and make him tremble that way for the rest of his life.

She reached down to his trousers, her hand sliding beneath the edge of leather so she could grab his hard cock. Like velvet and iron at her fingertips; heavenly. 

She pumped, feeling how rigid he was, how he twitched. His eyes were fluttering shut, head sunken deep into the hides on her bed.

“You know,” he said, in a voice that had to organize itself around the way his brain struggled to grapple with how a few simple movements from her hand made him feel. “I’ll be getting you back for the liberties you’re taking with me.”

Her stomach flipped at the dark promise. She gave Mathias’ cock a hard squeeze that forced a gasp from him.

“That is if you think you can still get it up by the time I’m done with you.”

His fingers tensed around her. She hoped they bruised her, like shadowy fingerprints to remind her and anyone else of who she let touch her so forthrightly.

Suddenly, she was falling sideways, the body beneath her no longer as steady as she thought it was because then that thick barrel of a torso pressed tight between her thighs was tilting until it was hovering over her as her back hit the bed once more.

Mathias barely gave her the time to catch her breath before he was yanking his trousers down over his hips to let his cock spring free, completely uninhibited now. 

One hand returned to its knitted hold in her hair, twisting into a grip so tight, it almost hurt.

His other hand slipped beneath one of her thighs and pressed it tight against the other. She felt his thick cock push in between her legs, and at once, more wetness seeped from her cunt. 

God, he was so warm and _big_.

She wanted to move her legs and spread them wide for him, but because of how he held her, the entire movement was contained to a restless slight twitch in her toes. She felt herself clench emptily, _wantingly_. 

“Please,” she whimpered, suddenly losing every ounce of her previous bravado. “Please, Mathias, put it _inside_.”

She tried to move, writhing to try and intensify the friction he felt as he rocked his hips and fucked her thighs as if maybe she could make him desperate enough to fuck her properly.

The drag of his skin was deliriously good for the both of them. He continued to stuff his thick cock in and out from between the generous give of her thighs. She squirmed, wanting to grind down against his cock, lest he accidentally slip it inside.

Mathias held her rigidly, though, determined not to fuck her the way she needed him to. His fingers were near-bruising.

“No,” he grunted. “No baby.”

It took her a moment to understand what he meant, and when it finally dawned on her, she felt as if he’d slapped her.

He didn’t want to put a baby in her. 

She could feel her slick slipping out of her, running down her thighs, feeding the pace at which his cock moved between them.

The crush of his hips against her made her feel like he was conquering her as he did the land. She felt deconstructed under his gaze, crumbling to dust in his fingers.

Though her own arousal was pounding futilely inside of her, like a rabid animal needing an escape, she couldn’t deny that the thought of him using her, finally taking what he wanted instead of waiting for her, made it even hotter. She wanted him to find his orgasm with a vengeance. Wanted him to get there through her.

His hips crashed against her in a frenzy; she could feel him twitch between her legs, and at how close he was to actually sliding his cock against her wet, swollen sex, she could’ve sobbed out her need for him.

“ _Mathias_ —”

She could feel him twitch hard, and then his entire weight seemed to come down on her, the hot spatter of his seed felt across her thighs.

Fuck, and she was still throbbing for him.

For a few moments, she was afraid Mathias would leave once he caught his breath, the way the words’ _no baby_ ’ stuck in her mind, like wax.

He didn’t leave, though; just shifted so that he was on his side, his cock still warmed between her soft thighs, as he looked at her, his eyelids heavy with fatigue, irises at half-mast.

She lay in his arms, warmed enough by the weight of his arm around her, even with their sweat growing clammy and stale at their skin.

She luxuriated in the rough pads of his fingers, tracing delicately over her.

“I still have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

His voice was a whisper. She let it wash over her like the heated fan of his breath.

“And that is?”

She looked up at him, her eyes wary. Her fingers were at his chest, half-heartedly combing through the wiry, blonde hair there.

Mathias looked uncertain, like what he had to say was difficult. He swallowed, and she watched as his throat twitched.

“Mathias, what is it?” 

She didn’t like this unsettled look about him, like he was about to go away for a very long time again -- not when she’d just gotten him back in her arms.

He shifted closer so that they were chest to chest, her face buried in the hollow of his throat.

“You can go home,” he whispered, his lips moving at her hair. “I can take you there.”

Her eyes went wide, and her heart seemed almost to stop entirely. 

She could feel his arms, careful around her, hypervigilant of how her breath caught. Suddenly, his embrace felt too heavy around her, too tight.

She pulled back so she could look back at his face, studying him.

“What?”

Now her own voice was a whisper.

“What do you mean?” she asked again when he would not answer. “There is no home anymore. Not there. Not since—”

Mathias blinked, his eyes sad and deep like a long-forgotten lake. The candlelight gleamed off them.

“There is nearby. Survivors from the…original village fled and stayed in a neighboring one we hadn’t touched yet. Now that enough time has passed, I’ve heard that an outpost has been established there. People live there and do well. They—” He swallowed. “We would not touch there again. I could promise you that at least.”

The silence afterward felt bruising. 

Crushing. She could not speak for a few moments. When Mathias’ fingers stroked softly at her skin, she couldn’t tell if it was yearning or disgust she felt. Her gut was twisted, knotted up tight.

She blinked and hated the wetness she felt and how it ignored the burn at her eyes.

“How could you do this to me?” she asked hoarsely. “After everything you’ve already done, now you choose _this_?”

She had been mistaken this whole time.

She sat up, rolling so that when she did so, she was on her knees, clutching one of the furs against her chest, hiding the aching throb of her heart from him.

“No matter what I choose, you have to live with what you’ve done. _Everything_ you’ve done, don’t you get it? You can get rid of me, but you can’t get rid of what you are.”

Mathias looked away.

“That’s not…I wasn’t…I don’t _want_ to be rid of you.”

His hand twitched like he was going to reach for her, but then he decided against it. She stared hard at him, even when she felt wetness streak down her cheek. Her entire chest felt tight like a fist had closed around her heart and had started squeezing.

In all its elasticity and incredible resiliency, the heart could do many things, forgiving being among the greatest of these, but it wasn’t perfect. It could not absolve.

“No matter what you choose, I’ll do it. It’s not forgiveness I seek, it’s—” Mathias swallowed, cutting himself off. “What will you do?”

She didn’t know anymore. Ask her months ago, and she would’ve jumped at the opportunity but now? If there was anything she’d learned, it was how to survive. Here, she was comfortable. The very same man who’d snatched her home and life away had bestowed a new one onto her. Here, she was protected from the threats that plagued her in her previous life – no longer did she have to fear the wolves when she slept in their den and wore their skins.

The logical choice was to stay. To stay and marry Lukas and forget this silly, sad, wretched man who took and gave everything to her with the frivolity and misguided whim of a child.

Life was not logical, though. Reason was one tiny facet of her existence – certainly not one with which to guide the entire trajectory of her life, and that was, in fact, what she was deciding on, right now, in this moment with his seed drying between her legs and her heart aching in her chest.

Mathias lifted his gaze to meet hers, and again, whatever carefully rationalized accumulation of thoughts was in her head had drained.

What would she do?

“I—”


End file.
